


Enchantment Night

by story_strudel



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: 1997 game spoilers, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Before Crisis spoilers, Before Meteor, Drug Use, Existential Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gambling, Gold Saucer (Compilation of FFVII), M/M, Pining, Resolved Sexual Tension, Romance, Smut, Vomiting, everyone is bad at feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:27:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26165629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/story_strudel/pseuds/story_strudel
Summary: As they pass through the Saucer’s main lobby, a hostess stops them. “Tonight’s Enchantment Night!” she declares, unfailingly cheerful despite the air of menace both Turks radiate. “All attractions are free for couples.”Reno’s face lights up. “Free, huh?”Rude frowns. “For couples?”~*~Rude and Reno fight and make up. Also, the world is ending.
Relationships: Reno/Rude (Compilation of FFVII)
Comments: 15
Kudos: 70





	1. Revelry

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a humor fic, but I hope you like it. Part 2 should be up in about a week.

“North Corel is a shithole, man.”

“You’ve said that three times now.”

“Well it keeps bein’ true.” 

Rude removes his sunglasses and wipes them with the singed hem of his tie. He’s sitting on one of two flimsy cots in the room they’ve rented, which is little more than a concrete box. “I’m not the one who crashed the chopper,” he points out.

Lounging on the other bed, Reno glares at the exposed wiring in the ceiling. “Not my fault that sandstorm got us. Damn, it’s hot in here. Ain’t there an AC?”

Rude points to a sad floor fan in the corner, causing the redhead to groan. 

“It’s one night, Reno. You’ll survive.”

“Yeah, well…hey, I got an idea.”

Rude shakes his head. 

“But I -.”

“No.”

“They got air-conditioning and a hotel,” Reno wheedles, “and I know you love the races.”

Rude _does_ love the chocobo races, and after the deep sea mission they just botched, he’s in no mood to spend more time in cramped, windowless enclosures. That said, he’s not about to let Reno loose in Gold Saucer.

Especially not when he’s been acting so off-kilter.

“Our instructions are to wait here until Tseng contacts us,” he says. “That’s what we’re doing.”

Reno sneers - an expression he rarely directs at Rude. “Well, I’m going.”

Rude watches as his partner pulls on his boots, grabs his wallet and truncheon, and stomps over to the door. “You’re serious.”

“You can come with or stay here. I don’t give a fuck.” 

Rude looks around their little room and sighs. Meteor is scheduled to hit the planet in less than a week, and professionalism aside he doesn’t want to spend another second in North Corel, either.

…

Gold Saucer really seems to be taking this whole end-of-the-world situation in stride. Everything’s as raucous and overpriced as ever, and there’s a new atmosphere of barely contained hysteria that really rounds out the experience.

When they arrive at the unnecessarily ghost-themed hotel, the clerk, who looks like he’s either been crying or getting high in the coat closet, informs them that the only room available is the honeymoon suite. Shinra’s per diem won’t cover that, but Reno says they’ll take it anyway. When Rude interjects, he offers him a smirk.

“Better win at the races, yo.” 

In line with the hotel’s spooky ambiance, the honeymoon suite incorporates more BDSM elements than Rude would prefer. Reno, whose mood has improved significantly now that Rude’s given him his way, gets a kick out of it and wastes no time making a crack about the spreader bar in the corner. He also digs through the dresser drawers, revealing...well it’s not a collection of socks. That’s for sure. 

Reno may be making nice now, but after their most recent mission Rude’s got some serious concerns. His partner’s got a flair for the dramatic, sure, but he’s never _abandoned_ Rude in the middle of a fight before. Rude’s pretty mad about that, actually, but at the moment he has bigger fish to fry, such as preventing the apocalypse.

And making sure Reno doesn’t put somebody’s eye out with the vibrator he’s found under the bed.

“Right,” Reno says when Rude’s taken that away from him. “What d’you say we hit the track?”

…

They spend the rest of the afternoon and early evening betting on chocobos. Rude’s off his game a bit, so he loses on the first few races, but when Reno goes and gets chummy with one of the bookies it’s wins across the board. 

“Reconnaissance ain’t cheating,” Reno says when he implies as much. 

“Takes the fun out of it, though.” 

Ignoring Rude’s disgruntlement, Reno signals to a nearby stadium vendor to bring him some deep-fried monster skewers and another beer. Drinks are cheaper at the track, and Reno has more than taken advantage.

Despite the dubious ethics of Reno’s “reconnaissance,” they still need to pay for their lavish - and tacky - hotel room, so Rude is not above cashing out. It’s getting dark by the time they leave, and he figures they can grab dinner and catch up on some sleep.

As they pass through the Saucer’s main lobby, a hostess stops them. “Tonight’s Enchantment Night!” she declares, unfailingly upbeat despite the air of menace both Turks radiate. “All attractions are free for couples.”

Reno’s face lights up. “Free, huh?”

Rude frowns. “For _couples_?”

“You got it! Every night’s Enchantment Night until...well…” The hostess makes a violent gesture with her hands that apparently represents Meteor striking the planet. “I recommend Event Square!” she continues brightly. “The show starts in ten minutes.”

  
Reno nudges him in the stomach. “What d’you say?”

“No.”

“Come on, Rude!” Reno’s always whiny when he’s been drinking, which he shouldn’t be doing because they’re on the clock.

“I’m not going on a date with you.”

“A fake date.” Reno hooks his arm through Rude’s and presses up against him. His expression is full of the fake joviality that Rude loathes. Still, this is the first time in a long while he’s seen Reno acting anything other than pissy, lazy, or defensive.

“Fine,” he says, jerking his arm out of the other’s grip. “Event Square. Then bed.”

...

The show at Event Square turns out to be one of those fancy, postmodern productions that demand audience participation, which Rude finds out the hard way. 

“Congratulations!” the usher announces when they enter - so loudly that everyone within ten seats turns to listen. “As the 100th couple of the evening, you get to be the leads!”

The world is ending, and now this?

“Leads, huh?” Reno offers the usher his toothiest smile. “Lucky you. Us Turks are the best actors in the business.”

“We’re _not_ actors,” Rude points out. 

“Tell that to Tseng.” Reno, maniacally cheerful, makes his way towards the stage.

Rude follows his partner reluctantly, feeling exposed and sweaty in front of a crowd of catcalling spectators. He knows from experience that when Reno gets like this it’s best to let him go wild until he tires out. That said, Rude suspects he’s being too indulgent.

“Now for a vote!” the show’s narrator shouts at the audience, which is not a particularly sober group. “Who will play our lovely princess? Mr. Strong and Silent?” He indicates to Rude with a flourish, “or his fiery companion?”

Rude considers removing his sunglasses. He wants them to _see_ him roll his eyes.

Reno wins by a landslide, garnering a thunderous applause in comparison to Rude’s smattering of cheers from the back. “We can’t _all_ be the princess,” he says, patting Rude smugly on the shoulder before being led away to change. Rude is likewise spirited off to the other end of the stage, where an attendant fits him with fake chain mail and a plastic sword.

Back on stage, he balks at Reno, who is wearing a pink, ill-fitting dress over his suit jacket. The color clashes with his hair, which has been let down and topped with a rhinestone tiara. 

The crowd erupts into applause, which Reno rewards by offering a flirtatious wink. He’s tipsy and laughing and flushed. Charming, one must admit, in a uniquely Reno way.

This charm doesn’t stop Rude from glowering at him, though. Because as much as Reno craves attention, they both know that Rude is hating this. 

When he catches Rude glaring, guilt flits across Reno's features

Still, Rude figures that if so many people are watching, he might as well do it right. So he lets the actors drag him around, fighting fake battles and listening to their horrible soliloquies until the culminating scene where he’s required to save the princess - er, Reno - from a papier-mâché dragon’s evil spell.

“How,” wails the narrator, “will our dashing hero rescue the maiden from his fate?”

Maiden? Rude scoffs.

“A kiss!” the crowd screams. 

Absolutely not. 

But the audience won’t be denied, and Reno, kneeling between the dragon’s feet, wears a demure expression too smug to go unpunished.

So Rude drops to one knee, grabs Reno’s hand, and plants a kiss right on his scarred knuckles.

“Behold!” the narrator cries, “true love has triumphed!” 

Beneath the ensuing applause, Reno's usual smirk melts away. His gray-blue eyes grow wide and glassy. His lips part. Rude knows his partner better than anyone, better than he knows himself, but he must be reading him wrong because in that moment he swears that Reno’s about to lean into his space and...

But he wouldn't. They've been over that.

…

“That dress smelled like shit,” Reno gripes as they exit the auditorium. Rude was hoping the booze and social stimulation of the show would mollify him, but if anything he’s more restless than before. “How’d I look,” he continues, pulling his hair back into its customary rat tail and turning to Rude expectantly.

Rude checks his PHS. Still no messages from Tseng. 

“Hey,” Reno continues, undeterred by his lack of response. “You wanna check out the gondola?”

Rude saw a sign for that particular attraction on their way in. The advertisement promised private booths and romantic views of the Saucer. “That’s for actual couples,” he says.

“Right." Reno shoves his hands into his pockets and shrugs. “What about Battle Square?”

“...”

“Fine. Fine.” He rolls his eyes around like Rude’s the one being unreasonable. “You’re no fun at all, you know that?”

“Never bothered you before.”

“Yeah, well I - hello, what’s all this?”

“Races are temporarily suspended,” says the hostess who helped them earlier. She points to a group of scandalously clad guests making their way toward Chocobo Square. “The track has been replaced this fine evening by the Psychedelic Ballroom of Cosmic Revelry.”

“That so?” Reno’s smiling with all his teeth again. He turns to Rude. “How 'bout it?”

Rude wants to say he’d rather set himself on fire, but letting Reno enter the Psychedelic Ballroom of Cosmic Revelry unsupervised would probably be worse.

…

The racetrack has been converted into less of a ballroom and more of a winding nightclub - the rainbow switchbacks and colorful, digitally-rendered set-pieces reworked into a labyrinth of dance floors, open bars, and performance stages where the patrons can engage in technicolor debauchery to their hearts’ content. It’s a rave fitting the apocalypse, Rude thinks as he watches someone wearing a feather boa and nothing else rub an illicit substance on their gums and kiss a cage dancer through the bars.

“Now this is more like it,” Reno shouts at him over the blaring music. “I need another drink.”

That last thing Reno needs is another drink, which Rude communicates with a displeased grunt.

Despite Rude's disapproving noises, Reno shoves his way through a gaggle of dancers towards the closest bar. 

In the decade he’s known him, Rude has seen Reno fucked up on duty exactly once. It happened when they were rookies and he got caught shooting up in the office restroom. After Veld beat him stupid, Reno disappeared for two weeks, came back to work really cranky, rapidly gained fifteen pounds, and never spoke of it again.

And yet there he is at the bar, accepting a tab off someone dressed as what can only be described as “sexy moogle” and placing it on his tongue. Then he collects his order from a bartender and makes his way back over. 

“Here,” he says, shoving a glass into Rude’s hand. 

Rude frowns at the shot and then frowns some more at the flecks of gold body paint that have rubbed off on Reno’s collar. “We’re on duty,” he says.

“Yeah, I’m aware.” Reno downs his two remaining drinks one after the other, grimacing only slightly through the burn. “But this is prob'ly our last chance. To let loose, I mean.”

Rude shakes his head. Beneath the pulsing bass and intoxication, fear permeates this space the same way it has everywhere they’ve gone since Sephiroth summoned Meteor. “We have a job to do,” he says, not trusting himself to say more than that.

“Whatever, man.” Grabbing the drink from his hand, Reno polishes it off, too, and tosses the glass over his shoulder. “You could’ve picked the gondola.”

…

There’s no use reasoning with Reno when he’s like this, so Rude lets his partner slink off into the crowd and retreats to their hotel room. Maybe he’ll behave himself better hungover. Though Rude’s starting to think his issues might be more complicated than that.

After sweeping the room and double-checking all the locks, Rude showers and orders room service. Then, while working his way through an overcooked steak, he fumes over Reno’s childishness.

He was tentatively optimistic to see Reno step in as acting director back when Tseng got hurt, but with Tseng back - or, more accurately, well enough to drag himself to a desk - Reno has taken the opportunity to become a lazy, downright unprofessional piece of shit. It wasn’t just Gelnika. He’s been acting off ever since the plate. 

And, yeah. Okay. What they did to Sector 7 fucks with Rude a whole lot, too. But this thing with Sephiroth...Rude’s not happy about it, obviously, but it means they have a chance to do something right for the world. To push back against the pain they unleashed, if just a little. 

He _knows_ Reno. He knows that he carries the weight of what they did as much if not more than Rude. If any Turk is prone sentiment, it's him, but over the past few months his actions haven't reflected that. Facing the apocalypse is supposed to reveal who people really are, but Reno being drunk, irresponsible, and apathetic...that’s not Rude’s Reno. All of that’s just his mask. At least, it used to be.

Histrionics aside, if they’re going to die horribly, Rude would rather not spend the time they have left ripping out each other’s throats.

After eating, he retires to the master bedroom, ignores the shackles attached to the headboard, and settles down for the night. They never decided who would sleep where, but if Reno’s going to throw an extended tantrum, the least he can do is let Rude have the better bed. 

He’s under the sheets by 9:30, intent on getting his first full night’s sleep in weeks. As Rude’s brain starts to settle, the memory of Reno in the princess dress comes back to him. That dress was hideous and clearly chosen to heighten the visual humor of the gag. The more Rude thinks about it, though, the more he is convinced it was a missed opportunity. Reno would have looked good in a pretty dress. Something blue, maybe. 

“The hell am I thinking?” With a weary sigh, he flips his pillow over to the cooler side and finally, _finally_ falls asleep.

…

He wakes to a muffled thump coming from the suite’s main room. His body tenses, only to relax moments later when he hears Reno.

“Eager, huh?’

“Gonna destroy that ass,” an unfamiliar voice replies.

“That right?” There’s something off about how Reno’s talking. His words sound thick.

There’s a rustle of clothes and then a creak that sounds like two bodies hitting the couch.

Resigning himself to a very poor night of sleep indeed, Rude sandwiches his head between two cushions and vows to make the remainder of Reno’s probably short life a nightmare.

“Hold up,” Reno says from the other room. “...’m gonna puke.”

“Seriously?” The irritation in the other’s voice rubs Rude in every wrong way imaginable.

Reno responds with few moments of gagging followed by an unhappy groan.

“That’s fuckin’ nasty,” the man informs him.

“.... _hrrgh_...I’m aware.”

“I’ll still do you, but keep your mouth to yourself.”

Rude has had enough. Shoving aside his blankets, he stalks across the room and throws open the bedroom door. Reno and his fuck buddy pop up from behind the back of the sofa like alarmed meerkats. 

He points at the stranger - a meaty motherfucker with tattoos scrawled over his bald head. “Out.”

“Who the hell are you?” Moving out from behind the sofa, the man puffs up his chest. 

Reno frowns at this with bleary eyes. “Come on, buddy. Can’t we all just -.”  
  


“Shut up,” the stranger snaps before turning to Rude and casually pulling out a knife. “Didn’t figure a slut like him would have a boyfriend.”

With a displeased sigh, Reno vaults over back of the sofa and uses his momentum to deliver a hard kick to the man’s chest. He takes the switchblade from him while his guard is down and has him pinned to the wall in seconds. 

Making sure the weapon is nice and cozy against the man’s throat, Reno bares his teeth. “Hey man, you came on to _me_.”

Whatever shadows he sees in Reno’s gaze must really get to him. That, or he's really fucking drunk because the silence that follows is punctuated by the sharp, ugly scent of the guy pissing himself. Once he’s sure the fight’s gone out of him, Reno withdraws and even has the nerve to close the knife and return it to the man’s shirt pocket. “You heard my _boyfriend_ , yo. Get out.”

The man does just that, forgetting his shoes and taking the big wet spot on his trousers with him. Once the door is shut, Reno turns to Rude with an embarrassed grimace. “Yikes.”

Instead of replying, Rude flicks on the overhead light. “You’re fucked,” he accuses as he takes in his partner’s disheveled appearance before dropping his gaze to the floor. “And you threw up on the carpet.”

As the adrenaline fades, so too does Reno’s brief sobriety. “Piss off,” he says, waving his hand clumsily and sliding down the wall until he’s sprawled in dramatic misery next to his vomit. “Apologized, didn’ I?”

“No you didn’t. Besides, that’s not the -.” Rude goes quiet as Reno’s face turns a peculiar shade of green. “Guess we should deal with this,” he mutters as he grabs his collar and drags him to the bathroom.

Dying of alcohol poisoning three days before the apocalypse would probably be the most Reno thing Reno’s ever accomplished. Or it would be if his gag reflex weren’t working overtime.

Rude winces as his partner wretches, spewing more clear bile into the toilet than one stomach should be able to contain. Under normal circumstances, Rude would pat his back or something, but at this point he feels petty enough to let him suffer.

“Tseng could call us any minute,” he reminds him, just to be a dick.

“Are you still on about that?” Wiping his chin, Reno fixes him with a sneer. “It’s fuckin’ over, yo. Shinra. Literally the planet. All of it.”

“Quit feeling sorry for yourself,” Rude says, reaching across the confined space to flush the toilet. “Shinra can stop Meteor. Provided we quit wasting time.”

Reno coughs and spits out some phlegm. “You really believe that?” 

“I do.”

“Come on, Rude.” 

The way Reno says his name is gentler than he’s ever heard it. Sadder, too. Rude can handle his partner acting badly. He can handle him being lazy and irresponsible and drunk, but for the life of him he can’t bear Reno talking to him like Rude’s the one that needs to be set straight.

“If you hate this gig so bad, why don’t you just leave,” he says, knowing he sounds childish and carrying on anyhow. “Just like you did on the Gelnika.”

“That sunk transport plane?” Reno lets out a rusty laugh. “The fuck’s anything gotta do with that?”

“You bailed on me. When we fought Strife and his lot.”

“Those assholes weren’t about to kill us,” Reno protests. “They were just after the loot.”

“We were supposed to secure that loot. To defeat Sephiroth.”

“If anyone can beat that guy, it ain’t gonna be us.” 

Reno is a lot of things, but hopeless is rarely one of them. In the face of it, Rude spirals further. “What happened to being a consummate professional?” he asks. “That all talk?”

“We’re gonna be dead this time next week, and that’s all you got to tell me?” Reno rests his cheek dejectedly on the toilet seat. “Anyway, you’re one to fuckin’ say anything. You pull your punches every time we fight that Lockhart chick, and we both know it.”

“What’s the matter? You jealous?”

It’s a low blow, so low that the second the words pop out Rude’s ashamed of them. As close as they are, they’ve never discussed it - the way Reno’s eyes linger longer than they have to sometimes, how his investment in Rude’s love life is a little too intense.

Reno closes his eyes, expression so unhappy that Rude can hardly look at him. “Jealous?” he replies. “Fuck you. Of course I am.”

…

Rude returns to the master bedroom after that, leaving Reno curled up in the space between the toilet and shower with his head down and arms around his knees. He looks small like that. Smaller even than when they first met and he was all bones and scabs and dull brown hair.

The guilt Rude feels isn’t an overwhelming flood like when he thinks about Sector 7. Hurting Reno is less destructive and more intimate. It cuts clean and deep and bleeds more than one might expect.

He lies back down but doesn’t sleep. Instead, Rude stares at the dark ceiling and thinks of Reno licking his emotional scrapes in the bathroom a door away.

Much as he pretends otherwise, Reno’s sensitive. He’s good at hiding it behind a carefree attitude and casual sadism for his opponents. But there’s always been a vulnerability that’s drawn Rude to him. A softness that escapes words.

The best example is probably Reno’s teeth. Back before they were partners, one of the older Turks had pointed out that Reno had fangs. Not actual fangs, but his canines turned out a bit, the angle making them look sharp. The effect wasn’t extreme or anything, and Reno only had to put up with about a week of mild teasing before everyone moved on to something else. 

Years went by. Reno and Rude teamed up, most of their colleagues died, and Shinra continued making money hand over fist. Then, two weeks after they both got raises, Reno walked into the office one morning, and his fangs were gone. Instead, he greeted Rude with a row of straight, white, perfectly shaped veneers.

And yeah. Fine. They were Reno’s stupid teeth, and he could do what he liked with them, but it didn’t change the fact the Rude had thought his fangs were cute.

There have been other moments over the years a lot more consequential than Reno’s dental care. The way he lost it when Veld and the others died, for one, or his reservations regarding Sector 7.

There’s also the fact that he’s sustained an unspoken, painfully obvious crush on Rude for the better part of a decade.

As if on cue, Reno emerges from the bathroom. He’s clutching a glass of water and looks like death, but he also seems to have sobered somewhat. 

“Gonna sleep on the sofa bed,” he informs Rude in a voice scraped raw from throwing up. “I’ll be good to go tomorrow. Thanks for puttin’ up with me.”

These are the words Rude’s longed to hear all week, but the victory rings hollow. “Bed’s pretty big,” he says, resolving to meet Reno’s peace offering with one of his own. “We could share.”

“Don’t.” Reno’s lips quirk in a rueful way. “I know you don’t mean to, but you’re bein’ cruel.”

Rude forces the tension in his shoulders to release. “I’m sorry,” he says, only half certain what he’s sorry for. Then, he glances at the digital clock on the nightstand. “It’s not as late as I thought.”

“Why’s that matter?”

“Was thinking we could check out that gondola. If you’re stomach’s up to it.”

...


	2. Repose

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2!

“The gondola?” Reno sighs. “Yeah, all right.” Turning on his heel, he disappears back into the bathroom.

As he dresses, Rude listens to his partner brushing his teeth. The sound is muffled by the closed door, and Rude feels the weight of that barrier more than he would like. He’s inexplicably relieved when Reno emerges with a damp face and fresh button-up. The garment is a service item provided by the hotel, and it hangs looser than his usual attire. 

“Sober enough?” Rude asks.

“Give me a sec.” Rolling up his over-sized sleeves, Reno makes his way to Rude’s travel bag and fishes out a collection of medical supplies. He grabs a hyper, a remedy, and a handful of soluble, cherry-flavored antacids and combines them in his empty water glass.

Rude shakes his head. “Disgusting.”

Swirling the vile concoction a few times to ensure it’s mixed, Reno pops two painkillers, tilts his head back, and swallows it. “Fuck, that’s bad,” he gasps, eyes watering as he coughs into his fist. When he's finally stomached it, though, he does look better. “Lead the way, partner.”

As they make their way through the crowded lobby, Rude regards the other out of the corner of his eye. Other than washing up, Reno hasn’t put the typical amount of effort into his appearance. He’s acting fairly glum in general, not even cracking a smile when a couple of drunks start setting off firecrackers in front of Wonder Square.

“We don’t have to go if you’re tired,” Rude says, shooing off a staff member dressed as a chocobo and handing out weed. 

“Nah, it’s cool.”

They arrive at the attraction and slide into line. There aren’t many people waiting - just some dopey couples and one middle-aged woman standing there alone. Reno is so intent on watching her that he misses his footing and stumbles climbing into the gondola. Rude steadies him by bringing a hand to the small of his back.

“Thanks,” Reno mutters as he regains his balance and pulls away. 

The gondola’s interior smells like pine. As he leans back against the wood bench opposite his partner, Rude watches Reno adjust his legs so their knees aren’t touching.

The gondola jolts into motion once everyone is on board and, with a laborious creak of cogs and timber, rises into the night. Soft piano filters in through a speaker in the ceiling. The melody is refreshingly understated. Almost relaxing, even. 

The gondola follows a trajectory around the exterior of Gold Saucer. Out one window, they view the Saucer’s most famous attractions all arranged in dish-shaped tiers around the town’s central tower. Everything shines gold and red, reminding Rude of a fairy tale his grandmother used to tell him about a magic rose that sprouts eternally in the desert.

He looks out the other window once and finds only darkness.

“This is nice,” he says as they make their way past the massive, gold statue at the tower's apex.

Reno shrugs. “Figured you would like it. On the off chance we survive this shit, you should bring a girl here.”

“Maybe.” Rude turns back to the window to admire a brightly lit roller coaster cutting loops of neon through the night. Gold Saucer is so overwhelming, chaotic, and loud he doubts that anyone but Reno could lure him with ten miles of it.

All of a sudden, those gaudy lights that make his head spin begin to waiver.

Reno frowns. “The fuck was that?”

“Must be the electricity grid. Fluctuations in the Lifestream have mako acting up all over” As Rude says this, the music coming through the speaker crackles and cuts out. Then, tier by tier, Gold Saucer flickers out. 

  
  


“Damn,” Reno mutters as the gondola gives a rattling shudder and goes still. “This night’s gone so shitty I’m almost impressed.”

  
  
  


Neither of them says anything for a moment. They just sit there in the dark listening to their own breathing as gondola rocks precariously in the wind.

“Could be here a while,” Rude finally says.

“Screw that.” Activating the flashlight of his PHS, Reno shuffles to the window. “Bet we can just climb down or somethin’.”

The whole gondola sways alarmingly as Reno hoists himself through the window and up onto the roof. “Hey Rude,” he says after a beat of silence, “get up here.”

“I’m good.” Lacking his partner’s dexterity and enthusiasm for scrambling up steep surfaces, Rude prefers to sit tight and wait.

“Don’t be lazy,” Reno chides, head emerging upside down in the window to scowl at him.

With a sigh, Rude heaves himself to his feet and follows him up with much less grace and plenty of grumbling. When he gets to the roof, though, he sees what Reno’s after.

Meteor’s on the other side of the world hurtling towards them, but you wouldn’t know it gazing at the stars like this. Without the Saucer’s light pollution obscuring it, the desert night stretches on in all directions - a plain of stars so bright and vast it’s almost frightening.

“Pretty wild,” Reno says, “Jenova findin’ us from all the way out there.”

Not trusting himself to reply, Rude cranes his neck, eyes following a section of more densely packed stars that arcs like a ribbon across the night. 

“That’s the shape of the galaxy,” Reno says, though there’s no way he could have seen Rude looking at it in the dark. “Our world’s part of this big disk of stars and space rocks, and that strip is one of the arms that spirals out from the center.”

This is news to Rude, as is the fact Reno knows fuck all about astronomy. “What’s at the center of the spiral?” he asks, gaze falling from the sky to land on Reno, whose silhouette stands out dimly against the surrounding night.

“A black hole.”

“A what?”

“I ain’t smart enough to explain it.” Reno pulls out a cigarette and lights it.

Nights are cold in the desert. “Give me one of those,” Rude says

The redhead arches an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t smoke.”

“And I thought you quit.” 

Reno takes a drag and hands it over. “That’s my last one,” he says. “We’ll have to split it.”

The chemical heat doesn’t warm Rude like he hoped, but it’s better than nothing. “You ever wonder why it’s gotta be us?” he asks, staring at the cigarette’s cherry smoldering in the dark. “How’d we ended up here, I mean. In this life?”

“Slow your roll, cowboy. That’s a plain old cig you’re smokin’.” 

“The universe isn’t fair. That’s all I mean.”

Falling quiet for a moment, Reno gives his words some thought. Introspection doesn’t come comfortably to Reno. It’s something he taught himself to accommodate Rude. “We ended up here the same way Jenova did,” he finally says.

“So what? It was all bad luck?”

Reno takes the cigarette back from him. Just as Rude did, he examines the ember at its tip. “Was it?”

Rude thinks hard on that. He thinks on all he and Reno have been through together - all the people and the parts of themselves they’ve lost and how much they’ve caused others to lose. He thinks also about the good times, sparse and flimsy as they’ve been, and he realizes suddenly just how much of his life’s pain and joy have been shared with the person sitting next to him.

How many people have someone like that? he wonders. How many people can say they aren’t alone?

“It wasn’t all bad,” he says as he rouses himself and makes his way across the creaky, swaying gondola. 

“Careful, yo. This shit ain’t stable.”

“It’s fine,” Rude replies as he settles closer to Reno and slides an arm around his waist.

Reno goes tense for a moment, ready to bolt like a feral animal. After a moment, though, he melts, sinking into Rude with a resigned, almost mournful sigh as the cigarette tumbles into the dark. 

Drawing him in closer, Rude presses his lips to his partner’s temple where his pulse beats quick and hot beneath the skin. This was a long time coming, he realizes - about damn time that last snarl in their friendship finally came unraveled. Holding Reno like this comes as naturally as breathing, but as happy as he is, Rude aches for the years they’ve wasted.

“Rude?”

“Hmm?”

Reno starts to shift away. “I know the world’s ending and all, but you really don’t gotta do this.” 

“Can I, though?”

...

After much shouting and fussing from staff and disgruntled patrons, the electricity comes back on, and the gondola resumes its cumbersome trajectory around the town. When it does, Rude and Reno slip back inside and sit across from each other on the benches. This time, the tension that builds between them is one of anticipation. Reno comments idly on the view, but there’s an edge to his words, an edge Rude feels in his gut. 

They don’t speak as they make their way back to the hotel room. Instead, they move together as they always have - side by side, alert and confident and dangerous. Once they’re back in the suite, Reno locks the door and turns to him. 

“Ain’t gonna be like last time, right?”

Just the memory causes Rude to wince. It was a few years ago, not long after Veld and the others...after they retired from the Turks. When that happened, Reno went incommunicado for three days before showing up at his apartment in the middle of the night unwashed and clutching a bottle of below-Plate moonshine that they’d split sitting at Rude’s kitchen table. Rude doesn’t remember who initiated the sex, but he remembers how horrible it was - him too drunk to stay hard and Reno spitting curses at him and everyone else he knew while sniffling into the sheets. They couldn’t look at each other for weeks after it happened, and until this very moment they’ve never talked about it.

That night is clearly on Reno’s mind as he offers Rude a tight smile.“What d'you say, partner? Can you keep it up?” 

Rude is dead certain in a way Reno can’t seem to manage. “Get over here.”

Reno shuffles forward until he’s a foot or so away. Then he stops and observes Rude with furrowed brows.

“Come here, I said.” Settling his hands on the other’s hips, Rude reels him the rest of the way in until they stand chest to chest. Up close, he smells the cigarettes Reno supposedly quit smoking and feels his heartbeat through his shirt. 

The redhead lays his hands gingerly on Rude’s biceps. “You really ain’t messin’ with me?”

“You gonna kiss me, or what?”

Shoulders relaxing just a bit, Reno removes Rude's sunglasses, tilts his chin up, and does just that. His lips are a little chapped from the desert heat, but under that there is a give to them, a plushness that Rude has devoted more time to thinking on than he cares to admit. He guides Reno closer, deepening the kiss until everything is warm and slick.

When they part, Reno looks like he might break. “I, uh, I know this ain’t...I mean, you’ve always been a ladies' man,” he babbles, lips swollen and voice rising steadily in pitch. “I ain't stupid. I know you said...but I just, you’re too nice sometimes, you know, so I ain’t -.”

Rude places a finger on his lips. “I’m not that nice.”

With a funny, choked off sound, Reno goes limp. “...in that case, just fuckin’ wreck me, I guess.”

...

Before Rude can oblige, Reno insists on taking a shower. He’s in the bathroom for a long time, and when he finally emerges amidst a billow of steam, Rude’s flopped out on the bed and starting to nod off.

_Took you long enough_ , he wants to say when the door creaks open, but all he can do is stare. Reno’s got a towel around his waist and another wrapped up in his dripping hair. He hasn’t done much in the way of drying off - _too_ _eager_ , a dark, satisfied corner of Rude’s mind supplies.

He really is lovely - body svelte and strong but worn down also in a threadbare way that makes Rude ache. He's seen him in various states of undress a hundred times. A handful of those times - when they weren’t in mortal peril or too exhausted to see straight - he’s even noticed that Reno is attractive. But Rude's never had the opportunity to appreciate it like this.

“Don’t act like you ain’t seen it all before,” Reno says, tone aiming for snark but landing somewhere between flattered and embarrassed. 

Rude gets up and prowls across the room to crowd his partner up against the wall. Unwrapping the towel from his hair, he winds his fingers there instead and proceeds to bite bruises into Reno’s throat. Reno gasps and tilts his head back in response, offering this vulnerable part of him without a thought.

They make their way to the bed, where Rude wastes no time arranging Reno how he wants him. He runs his hands up under the towel around his waist, skimming strong thighs before skipping up to trace his hips and the crooked scar where an uncertified slum doctor removed his appendix. 

“Overdressed, ain’t you, buddy?” 

Rude sits back. “Aim to fix that?”

With uncharacteristic obedience, Reno sits up and places his hands almost reverently on the collar of Rude’s shirt. He lingers for a moment, dexterous fingers stroking the fabric and sweeping down Rude’s pecks. He whistles low under his breath as he carefully undoes the mother-of-pearl buttons. “You don’t know how much I thought about doin’ this,” he says. “Or maybe you do. I ain’t known for bein’ subtle.”

He really isn’t, but Rude doesn’t say that. Instead, he lets Reno open his shirt and run his hands up his torso so he can push the garment off his shoulders. Even after his shower, Reno’s touch is cool. He has bad circulation. Rude learned that on a mission north of Icicle. 

Not entirely comfortable with his partner’s fawning, Rude stands up once his shirt’s off and removes the rest of his clothes more efficiently. Finished undressing, he folds everything neatly over the back of a chair and crawls back onto the bed to kiss the admiration off Reno’s face. 

He’s naked and Reno’s nearly there, and the exposure has Rude buzzing with a queasy anticipation. It’s a typically chilly desert night, and the gooseflesh on Reno’s skin prickles. Covering his body with his own, Rude marvels at how those prickles fade beneath his warmth. 

Under his creative approach to business casual, Reno’s body is utilitarian. No frills or glamour muscles, just a lean, whipcord strength that’s a pleasure handling. Rude has vague recollections of that body beneath him the other time they tried this. The memory is corrupted with grief, so he discards it. 

Reno gasps when he tongues one of his small, peaked nipples, his breath coming in rough pants. When Rude adjusts his position, he feels the redhead’s erection through the towel.

Reno shies away. “You want me to roll over?"

“No." Rude returns his mouth to the soft slopes of Reno's tits, feeling victorious when his partner lets out a broken moan. “That’s it,” he says, keeping his voice smooth and deep so Reno doesn’t squirm out of his skin. “Take what you need.”

After a brief pause, Reno ruts his crotch more deliberately against his thigh. Rude slides a hand under the small of his back to encourage him. 

Reno does not need much encouragement. Arms looping around Rude’s shoulders, he grinds against his leg with an increasingly lewd enthusiasm. “You’re gonna kill me,” he says, spitting the words out fast and frantic as his hips judder.

“Shhh. You’re fine.”

“I ain’t.” Reno’s stubborn even when he’s desperate. “I need your dick, like, yesterday.”

Rude’s pretty sure he needed Reno something like ten years ago, so he kisses his way down his stomach and pulls aside the towel.

Leaning back, Rude considers Reno’s cock. He notes its curve and length and rosy color. He notes the lack of hair, as well, and discovers when he pushes Reno’s thighs apart that he’s shaven all the way down. 

“So that’s why you were so long in the shower,” he accuses, brushing against the direction of growth so he can feel the stubble’s friction. 

“Nothin’ but the best for you.” Reno's watching him real careful.

Rude traces a line of freckles he’s never seen before to the base of Reno’s cock. ““I like you any old way," he says. "Can I touch?”

“You really gotta ask?”

“It’s what people do.”

With a huff, Reno lets his legs fall open. “Do whatever you want.”

Rude’s never held someone else’s cock before - that other time, Reno hadn’t let him - and he is surprised how naturally it comes to him. Reno all but sobs when he takes him in hand, hips jerking fitfully as he attempts to push into Rude’s fist. He’s beautiful sprawled out like this - stomach taut and precum already leaking. He’s wetter than Rude usually gets.

“Easy,” he murmurs, squeezing Reno’s inner thigh where he’s holding up his leg. His body doesn't have as much give as most of the people Rude’s been with. He notes how the lean muscle shift smoothly beneath his touch.

“You’re so fuckin’ bad for me,” Reno whispers, gaze fixed on where Rude is jerking him off in slow, measured movements. “Ain’t gonna be worth nobody’s time once you’re through.”

_I’ll never be through with you_ , Rude wants to say, but the words don’t come. 

When he leans down to lick the head of his erection, Reno lets out a sharp, ugly cry that goes right to Rude’s dick. Rude’s not sure sucking cock does anything for him, but Reno’s reaction is worth the effort. He’s been looking at Rude this whole time, but when he starts using his mouth, his eyes snap shut and his back arches off the bed. He cries out like he’s dying, and his chest heaves, and when Rude brings his hand around to press a knuckle behind his balls, Reno’s whole body stills, and he comes hard into his mouth. 

Rude jerks back in surprise, the result being that most of Reno’s release ends up on his face. It’s viscous and bitter and easily the hottest thing that’s ever happened to him. “Did you just…?”

Hiding his face in his hands, Reno lets out a muffled groan. “Fuck, man. Sorry ‘bout that.”

Rude stares in silent awe at Reno’s cock, which rests slick and twitching in his hand. He would probably have kept staring at it if Reno didn’t sit up all of a sudden and push him away. “Seriously, my bad,” he says, pupils blown and hands shaking through the aftershocks as he strips one of the cushions and uses the pillowcase to wipe cum off of Rude’s chin. “I don’t usually lose it in three seconds, if you can believe it.” 

“Wasn’t three seconds.” Rude takes the pillowcase and finishes the job. “More like ten.”

The chuckle this wrenches from Reno is a little breathy. “Sorry,” he says again. “I really didn’t mean - .”

Rude shakes his head. “Don’t.” 

“Whuh...uh?”

“Quit acting like I’m doing you a favor.” Tossing the soiled pillowcase aside, Rude crowds into Reno’s space and kisses him so that he gets a taste of his own jizz. “That’s not what this is.”

After a long stretch of silence, Reno cradles Rude’s face in his hands and kisses him back with more unguarded, honest emotion than Rude thought him capable of showing. When he pulls away, he’s blinking fast. “Guess we wasted a lot of time, huh partner?”

“Not anymore.”

…

Reno assures him that he’s not too sensitive to continue, going so far as to claim he can come twice more at least. Rude thinks twice seems unrealistic, but it’s hard to argue against those bedroom eyes...or how Reno shoves him up against the headboard and deepthroats him with an expertise that’s practically professional. 

“How do you _do_ that?” he asks, choking on a moan as Reno’s throat muscles flutter around him. 

Pulling off with a wet slurp, Reno smirks. “Gotta breathe through your nose,” he crows, eyes crinkling as he breaks into a more genuine smile. “And, you know, get inspired by a hot guy’s massive cock.”

It’s nice to see his confidence return, Rude thinks as he swipes away a strand of precum clinging to Reno’s lower lip. The redhead’s body is begging to be touched, so Rude leans over him and digs his fingers into the firm muscles of his back, working his way down until he's massaging circles against his tailbone.

“So it’s gonna be like that,” Reno says with a raspy chuckle. “Can’t say I’m opposed.”

After a few minutes of Rude pawing at his ass, Reno disengages long enough to dig through the drawer of the bedside table. He comes back with a condom and a packet of lube, the latter of which he shoves into Rude’s hand. “You don’t wanna get your hand dirty, I can do it,” he says, cheeks flushed, “but I cleaned up pretty good earlier, and I, uh, I kinda like it when… _oomph_.” 

The mental image of Reno shoving soap up there makes Rude want to both laugh and blow his load at the same time. He settles instead on picking Reno up and dumping him onto his front. “Hips up,” he says, admiring the curve of Reno’s waist as he manhandles him onto his knees. He’s a little insulted his partner assumes he’s never put his fingers up someone’s ass before, but he’ll address that indignity another day.

Bracing his elbows on the mattress, Reno arches his back - probably more for Rude’s benefit than his own comfort - and drops his forehead onto his arms. He exhales sharply when he brushes slick fingers against his hole and actually cries out when they breach him. 

Rude’s fingers sink in with surprising ease. He vows to be there next time Reno takes a shower.

“You okay?” he asks as he opens him up, going deeper a little bit at a time. “Being kind of quiet.”

“...I mean, I think I might be dyin’, but it’s all good.”

Reno’s reaction to being prepped is a lot quieter than when Rude sucked his dick. Instead of cursing and howling, he’s all sighs and dazed, gauzy breathlessness. The tension bleeds out of him completely, and he probably wouldn’t be able to keep his knees under him if Rude weren’t there to hold him. Rude gets the feeling that he’s fulfilling a different kind of need for Reno by doing this, scratching an itch that gets less attention than normal lust.

“You really like that, huh?”

“Mmm.” Reno turns his head and offers him a dizzy smile. “I like when you do it.”

When Reno is soft and wet enough, Rude moves to extract the condom still clutched in his hand.

“Nngh.” Reno tightens his grip so that the foil wrapper crumples. “I took a remedy earlier, remember?”

“Yes. It was a very professional use of Shinra medical supplies.”

In an act of horny defiance, Reno throws the condom as far its non-aerodynamic shape will allow.

“I might have something,” Rude points out. 

“The world’s ending on Tuesday, yo. I could really give a fuck.”

“...have it your way.” Flipping Reno onto his back, Rude nudges his legs apart and moves between them. He takes his own cock in hand, slicks it with what’s left of the lube, and rubs the leaking head against Reno’s entrance. 

Rude’s pretty big, but Reno takes him well just like he knew he would. The redhead lets out a choked-off groan when Rude finally bottoms out - his own cock smearing clear fluid across his belly. “Don’t gotta wait,” he says, breathing fast and shaky through his nose. “Done enough of that.”

Unable to dispute this, Rude hikes Reno’s legs around his waist and starts moving in slow, shallow thrusts. Reno opens sweetly for him, his insides hot and slick and welcoming in a way that makes his head spin.

Reno has always trusted him so readily, too readily for a Turk. During long missions and late nights, he’s let slip a hundred secrets that Rude’s certain he wouldn’t tell anybody else. And he’s demanded secrets as well, exhumed Rude’s darkest thoughts bone by bone, so gradually it’s only now Rude realizes there’s no one in the world who knows him better.

It’s natural that they share this as well, he thinks as he presses his hand against Reno’s low belly and imagines his cock dragging back and forth inside him.

“It’s good, right?” Reno slurs, hands gripping insistently at Rude’s arms where they’re pinning him to the mattress.

“Mmm...you take it like a dream.”

Reno keens at this and surges forward, digging his nails into Rude’s back and clamping his thighs tight around his hips. He even sinks his teeth into the meat of Rude’s shoulder, as though afraid he’ll fade out of being if he lets up. Rude reassures Reno as best he can, rocking into his body with more force and gripping his waist so tightly it starts to bruise. 

In the end, Reno only comes once more. Rude’s not far behind. 

...

Rude wakes with the rising sun from a dream he can’t remember. He blinks against the glare and lets his gaze fall to where Reno lies next to him. He’s on his side facing away, hair spilling with Meteor’s red morning across the sheets.

Fear seizes in Rude’s stomach. Veld always used to say that the tighter you hold something, the more likely you are to lose it. At least, that’s how it works for Turks.

“You up?”

  
  
Rude grunts in affirmation, not trusting himself to speak.

Reno peeks at him over his shoulder. The hickeys on his throat bear testament to their night. “What’re you thinkin’ about?” he asks, tone painstakingly neutral. 

Rude says the first thing he thought when he woke up. “Can I touch your hair?”

“...sure.” 

Reno holds himself oddly still as Rude reaches out but relaxes when his fingers start sliding through the coarse tresses, separating tangles as they go. With a pleased sigh, Reno turns and ducks into him, lips curling into a smile against Rude’s chest.

“Tseng got hold of us while you were sleepin’,” he says, perfectly straight veneers teasing Rude's right nipple. “Extraction’s in two hours.”

Rude hums and fiddles with his partner’s split ends. “We got time, huh?”

“You thinkin’ what I am?”

“...breakfast?”

Reno busts out laughing - abrasive and unhinged and joyful in a way Rude hasn’t heard in ages. “You’re too much,” he says, rolling away from Rude so he has space to wipe his eyes. “Bein’ your big gay sexual experiment was an honor, yo.”

“You’re not an experiment.” Rude’s words carry so much heat it startles both of them.

In the face of that heat, Reno just sort of blinks at him. Then, as morning light filters through the blinds behind him, he reaches across the bed and takes Rude’s hand in his. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I know that.”

“When this Meteor bullshit is over, I’ll prove it to you.”

Reno smiles. “I’m lookin’ forward to it.”

...


End file.
